CHAPTER ONE.

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"BITE THE HAND THAT FEEDS YOU"

THE UNIVERSE HAD A LUDICROUS WAY TO FIND A WAY TO GET EVEN WITH SOMEONE. Amy had to admit, it should have received a standing ovation, considering the way it was playing with her.

Amy held the bikini top, (more precisely what was left of the soft fabric) her hands shielding her chest away from savage eyes. A snob whistled when she passed him, eyeing her from head to toe. If her hands weren't so busy with covering her boobs, (she could swear the boy had more boobs than her) she would have shown her not so ladylike finger. – as her grandsparents' description of the middle finger-

She was having one of those days. Nothing seemed to go as she planned despite her efforts, which was literal hell to a control freak. Her caramel eyes were accompanied by the purple under them that was a result of insomnia. Her facial muscles hurt from fake smiles, and she was on a display with her torn bikini top.

A ginger barbie wannabe gasped dramatically, pointing her manicured finger at the brunette. Her friends raised themselves from the sunloungers they were lying just to look at Amy.

"Don't act like you all don't have boobs!" Amy bellowed, drawing more attention as if it was possible.

There was literally nothing to see, no, up to the hill, her boobs were covered by the fabric, her neck fabric was ripped and her hands were enough to keep it together. However, Sunnyvalers were drama queens with nothing but money.

Amy was at the end of her tether, even her grandparent's dischuffed scowls had zero effect today. Rolling her eyes to them, she pushed the glass door that was already half-opened with her feet. She was tall in the saddle as she walked, and her stern gaze didn't falter even slightly until she threw herself to the familiar room.

The smell of cologne and cigarette offered her some solace, and she volitionally accepted it. She heaved a sigh of relief, closing her eyes briefly. The hostile looks threw daggers at her fragile body as if they were still on her.

Letting the bikini top fell to the floor, she reached to the wardrobe. The black walls surrounded her as if they were feeding on her. She swallowed the eerie feeling and grabbed a t-shirt, wearing it. The bluish fabric-covered most of her body like a dress, making Amy seem tinier than normal.

The black door was wide opened without knocking, a figure barging into the room. Amy furrowed her brows, she had had enough. "Does it look like a three-ring circus to you? Don't you know how to knock?"

"I didn't know I had to knock to get into my room."

Matthew Goode stood with all his jauntiness, his infamous smirk playing on his lips. His dark curls feel to his forehead, combining with his coal eyes.

Amy rolled her eyes so hard that it physically hurt her. "You are late to your own party."

Goode parties were a routine in Sunnyvale. Every month, Amy and Teresa Love would drive to the house (Amy would say palace compared to their tiny house in the Shadyside) of the Love Family. They would turn into dolls when they were being dressed up with expensive clothes they hadn't chosen and adorned by maids.

The Goode family was the brightest family of them all. The oldest son, Nick was the sheriff, following his father's steps. The middle child, Will, was the mayor, and the mother's dearest. And the youngest, Reg Goode was a lawyer, but he was actually favored by another feature; his son. Matthew was the first child, thereby the heir of Goodes. He was on the football team, and his talent had no equal. Rich and successful; that was how you'd describe them.

Matthew clicked his tongue, throwing himself to his bed. "Party starts when I arrive." He dismissed her, his head buried in the pillows. "What did I miss?"

Amy threw herself next to him, watching the ceiling. "Um, let me think. Mr. Parker has a new girlfriend, again 16 years younger than him. Miss Dunbar is getting married to her sixth husband."

Matthew raised his head abruptly. "After all of her five husbands died suspicously, someone is still willing to marry her?"

Amy hummed, confirming. "Oh, and my uncle was killed last night."

Matthew blankly stared at her before a chuckle left his lips. "Nice one, you almost got me." Amy pressed her lips, forming a straight line. "No fucking way."

Her uncle, Leo Winters, was the only relative she knew from her paternal side. He was 7 years older than her father, and according to Amy's mother, he and his brother had been at odds after her father started dating a Sunnyvaler. He had never accepted Amy as a Winters, or as a niece. He also blamed Amy's mother for his brother's death. However, he was still a part she had from her father, and now that piece she was holding onto was taken away from her too.

She had seen him a few times on her father's grave. He would ask if the pair needed anything (even though, he knew it was a ridiculous question to a Love), and sometimes if she was lucky, he'd ask how the school had been going.

Amy drew a sigh. "Yes fucking way." She stated, twirling her dark hair in her hands. "Haven't you heard of the mall massacre? Your uncle shot the killer."

Matthew blinked a few times to focus. "Who was the killer?"

"Ryan Torres." Amy explained, a frown on her face. "He graduated last year from my school."

"Shit, I'm sorry." He bit his bottom lip, his hand resting on her forearm. "How are you feeling?"

"Like the next." She answered with all her sour honesty.

"Huh?"

"First my father, and now my uncle." She stated, her wide eyes on him.

"Ames," Matthew warned with a severe look.

"Now it's my turn." She completed her sentence. "It's the curse."

Matthew tensed visibly before scoffing in disbelief. "The witch and the curse... they are not real, Ames."

"The Winters Curse." Amy raised her brows, correcting. Her hands reached to her metal necklace, searching for some comfort with touching it. "Deep down you can feel it too, right? Something vile is following the Winters name like a shadow."

"Stop it." Matthew raised his voice. "Stop saying that, and believing that."

"You have a better explanation?" Amy challenged him, raising herself with her elbows. "Go on, I'm all ears!"

Matthew licked his lips, also straightening his posture. "Another Shadysider went crazy, how is that a surprise?"

Amy scoffed, shaking her head lightly. "It is as easy as that for you, huh?"

He clenched his jaw, the sunshine flickering on his sharp features. "It would be the same for you if you agreed it to live in here."

"I'm sorry to break it to you but not everyone is born into money, Matthew." Amy spit the venomous words. "If you stopped being such a snob a second, you can realize Shadysiders don't have a choice in life."

As soon as the words left her lips, she wanted to reach and collect them. She wanted, hell, she needed to put them back. Yet, the damage was done. Her words were as sharp as Matthew's jaw, and the hurt look on his eyes crushed her little heart.

"I'm sorry," She whispered, biting the inside of her cheeks. "I'm so sorry. It's just... today doesn't seem to end like I have been stuck to this day for years." Amy took a shaky breath, eyes prickling with tears. "First my uncle, then Heather, and then-" A sob left her mouth no matter how much she tried to hold it. "Then they didn't have my favourite milkshake and my bikini top-"

Matthew had a small smile on his face as he pointed to the tiny fabric on the ground. "That bikini top?"

"Yes! It just ripped in the middle of the pool!" She closed her eyes to stop her tears from falling.

Matthew playfully hit her shoulder. "Please, don't tell me I missed that scene."

Amy grimaced at his words. "Ew, no, still protecting the sacred Love name."

He grunted in annoyance. "Did I really miss how your granny looked at you that moment? God, I hate myself."

"It was close to the look she gave to Crystal when she said she never ate lobster."

"Oh boy." He laughed, pushing his head back to the pillow. Their laugher stopped when the door was knocked. "Go away!"

Amy sent an unimpressed look to him, fixing her appearance just in case. Pretend, pretend, pretend. Just for a few hours, then she was free.

"Mr. Goode, your father is expecting to see you." The voice of the cook drew his attention.

Matthew let out a heavy sigh. "Thank you, Darla!"

Amy involuntarily rose to her feet, a pout on her face. "If I hid in your wardrobe, how long would it took for them to find me?"

Matthew put a hand to his chin as if he was thinking about the purpose of the universe. (Amy knew the answer; being a bitch.) "A good 2 minutes." He pointed to his t-shirt that she was wearing and planning to steal for good. "You realize I can see your boobs, right?"

"Good for your eyes." She huffed, glancing at the mirror.

"Well, your saviour has arrived. My drawer is full of bras so choose whichever you liked."

"A part of me wants to ask how," She said sternly. "But my other part is telling me knowing would be more disturbing."

"Girls like to give me gifts." He winked, pushing his hair back. "Must be my muscles."

"Are you sure they don't think you are poor because of your clothes?"

Matthew's smile faltered, rolling his eyes. "Ha-ha. You think you are funny?"

Amy's lips curved with pride. "I know I am."

"Are you going to the game tonight?" Matthew asked with one last glance after he opened his black door.

"Cheerleading never stops." Amy shrugged, oblivious to what would happen that night would bring downfall to everything she had believed.

💀 🩸 🦴 😈 🔪

𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓'𝒔 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆:

edited: 21.08.2021

i have decided to get into more deep of my characters and change the story a little bit, therefore I'm writing most of the chapters again! 

i also decided to give Amy a personality, for some reason she was my least favorite... even though i wrote her.

i kind of wanted to show Amy's normal life, and her thoughts before i write the chaotic events

i also wanted to show the relationship between Matthew and Amy <3